Dr Casswell's Student

by Sarah Fisher

  Sarah softly moaned her assent; so low was her resistance at that moment, she couldn’t care what he did. She breathed deeply and wallowed amongst the fragrant suds, totally captivated by the soft insistent circling of his astute fingers.

  Rigel Casswell filled his guest’s glass and then lifted his own in welcome.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, Oliver. How was your trip?’

  ‘Fine, not a problem,’ replied Oliver Turner. ‘It’s good to be here, old man. How goes the translation? I’m looking forward to seeing the transcripts.’ He paused and sipped his sherry, his eyes alight with curiosity. ‘But to be perfectly honest, I’m rather more interested in your new houseguest at the moment. Tell me about the girl’s training. How is she coming along?’

  Casswell smiled at the elderly gentleman; without Turner’s intervention and intuition he would never have found Sarah Morgan in the first place. Oliver Turner had been an acquaintance of Sarah’s aunt, a lifelong patron of the museum, and had been the man responsible for suggesting that Sarah take the job in the office there.

  ‘You were right about her. I should have trusted your judgement; after all, it has never failed me yet. She’s a natural. Obviously unschooled as yet, but she’ll be excellent by the time I am finished with her. A perfect companion for the connoisseur. I am certain you’ll like what you see. Chang is preparing her now for us.’

  Turner nodded. He was a large, plump man, with a ruddy complexion that reflected his taste for good living. Dressed in formal evening clothes he was an impressive sight. ‘It will be an absolute pleasure to meet Miss Morgan again. And was she unbroken?’

  Casswell eyed the rich amber liquid in his glass thoughtfully, and then smiled. ‘Completely untouched, until she arrived here.’

  Turner chuckled and selected a canapé from a plate on one of the side-tables. ‘I see you speak in the past tense, my dear boy. Can I presume there is no need for me to ask about the state of affairs now? How is she coming along?’

  There was a discreet knock on the door. ‘Ah, that’ll be Chang,’ Casswell said. ‘You’ll be able to judge for yourself, Oliver.’ He raised his voice to admit Chang and his beautiful charge.

  The double doors swung open to reveal Sarah. Casswell couldn’t quite suppress a smile of delight.

  Sarah Morgan looked perfect. Flanked by candles in the wall sconces, she was blindfolded, barefoot, and naked beneath a transparent high-necked black voile gown. Chang had dressed her hair into a soft bun with corkscrew tendrils that framed her delicate features, and as a final touch he had added a pair of diamond and pearl dropped earrings.

  The scarlet lipstick on her generous mouth and the sheer black fabric of the gown seemed to emphasis the richness of the girl’s creamy flesh. Around her neck Chang had fastened a black leather choker to which was attached a fine silver chain.

  Her nipples had been rouged to emphasise their ripeness, and her denuded sex looked as moist and succulent as a peach; Sarah Morgan was indeed a mouthwatering feast.

  As Chang led her into the dining room, Casswell was pleased to see her arms were secured firmly behind her back. A nice touch, and one that not only emphasised her vulnerability, but also thrust her breasts forward, showing them off to their best advantage.

  Beside him, Casswell heard Oliver Turner let out a little grunt of appreciation.

  ‘Very nice work, Casswell, very nice work indeed,’ he said with gruff good humour, and waved to Chang. ‘Bring her a little closer, there’s a good fellow, and let me get a better look at her.’

  Chang instantly obeyed.

  Turner put a finger under the girl’s chin and tipped it towards him, gently turning her blindfolded face this way and that. Sarah did not resist. Turner sniffed and glanced at Casswell. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked.

  Casswell shook his head and smiled as though showing off his prize Bentley to a potential purchaser. ‘Not at all,’ he said amiably. ‘Help yourself.’

  Turner murmured his appreciation of his host’s courtesy, and ran a speculative hand over the diaphanous material that strained to contain Sarah’s breasts. She instinctively flinched away from his first light touch, so he pulled his fingers away and paused patiently while Chang harshly admonished her disrespectful behavior and warned her not to be so recusant again. When she had mumbled her apology, Turner cupped her breasts again and took evident pleasure in weighing them in his palms like ripe fruit.

  ‘I prefer my fillies to be a little heavier, with a tad more meat on their bones. But I cannot deny, she is a sumptuous piece.’ He pinched her painted nipples. Sarah flinched again, but bravely held her position. The scarlet nubs of sensitive flesh stiffened traitorously between his cruel fingers and thumbs.

  ‘She responds nicely,’ Turner adjudged, licking his lips and gliding a hand down over her softly rounded belly to the mound of her sex. Sarah couldn’t suppress a pleasurable sigh as his fingers delicately parted the lips of her quim through the sheer gauze. Her thighs inched apart instinctively, and Turner was able to press a finger a little way inside, his single robust digit swathed in fine black gossamer.

  ‘Good and tight,’ he decided. ‘And responding nicely; she already coats my finger with juices.’ Sarah blushed behind the blindfold at his utterly humiliating commentary. ‘It would seem you have yourself a very good deal here, my dear Rigel.’

  Casswell noted the colour rising in her cheeks. He imagined the anticipation and trepidation she would have experienced when being led down through the darkened house, bound and unable to see. The moan that danced lightly from her full lips was completely instinctive; a subtle combination of fear and desire.

  Turner held out his other hand to Chang, who passed him Sarah’s lead. Casswell could see that the elderly gentleman was delighted with Sarah’s progress so far – and guessed what was soon to follow.

  Turner gently led Sarah to one of the ornate chairs that graced the dining table, and took off his dinner jacket. Settling himself comfortably he guided her, with some discreet help from Chang, over his knees.

  It was a provocative pose. Sarah looked exquisite; blindfolded with her bottom raised and her lithe body still covered by the black chiffon. Casswell sensed her anxiety. She had presumably guessed what was to follow. He wondered whether she thought it was his lap she was bent over, or had she already guessed that it was his dinner guest who was about to put her through her paces.

  Oliver Turner swung back his hand and brought it down sharply across Sarah’s waiting backside with such vigour and enthusiasm that the sound of flesh on flesh cracked out like a pistol shot.

  Although Sarah had tensed, waiting for the blow, she arched up, shrieking in surprise. As her head lifted her breasts strained forward, nipples erect and thrusting, her mouth open in a perfect oval of astonishment and pain.

  Within the dark confines of the blindfold, Sarah was stunned. The sensation of the unseen hand exploding across her backside roared through her like a tidal wave. She had no idea who her tormentor was. He smelt of pipe tobacco and she guessed he was older than Casswell. But other than that he could have been anyone… except she had the weirdest sensation that she knew him.

  She strained for clues, but all she could hear with any real clarity was her own heartbeat and frantic breaths. She could sense his growing excitement, and wasn’t surprised when the intimidating stiffness of his cock pressed into her belly.

  After a second or two she felt the muscles in his thighs tense and knew instinctively that there was another blow on its way. If anything, this one was even harder, and the cracking contact upon her defenceless flesh wiped away every thought except an awareness of the astonishing heat and pain left in its aftermath. For a few seconds fingers lingered on her throbbing flesh, and then they were gone and she knew he intended to smack her again.

  The next blow was lower, stinging across the lips of her sex. She bucked and twisted to avoid the tortuous
hand, but it was impossible. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could imagine the picture she must present, both to her tormentor and to Doctor Casswell.

  Sarah cried out again as the next blow hit home, her mind finally releasing the puzzle of the man’s identity while every nerve ending absorbed the intensity of the plethora of sensations. There was another stroke, and then another…

  Just as she began to ebb and flow with the rhythm of the pain, the stranger straightened his legs and she rolled helplessly, still blindfolded and bound, to the floor. She lay for a while in silence, without being disturbed, exhausted and breathing heavily.

  Eventually unseen hands pulled the leather collar and dragged her up onto her knees. Fingers once again strayed to explore the delicious curves of her breasts. Each touch, each sensation, seemed to flood her body with light, and she wondered then if all her humanity had been stripped away, leaving only the power of feeling.

  Casswell smiled as Chang lifted Sarah onto her knees. With great deliberation Oliver Turner unbuttoned his immaculate trousers and guided his bony white shaft towards the girl’s unsuspecting mouth.

  With one hand he caught hold of her hair and pulled her between his spread thighs, and then guided her face down towards his crotch. His gnarled erection sprouted from his open trousers and brushed her lips. She tensed and instinctively pulled away.

  ‘Come on, girl,’ Turner snorted hoarsely, pulling her closer still. ‘Don’t be so damned coy, or I’ll have to spank you a little more.’

  Sarah resisted a little longer, and then, knowing it was useless, yielded and allowed him to push her head lower. As she licked experimentally at the cock that stood before her, Chang undid her arm restraints, and to the delight of both host and guest she lifted her hands, curled her fingers around the throbbing shaft, and fed it into her mouth.

  As she knelt in front of Turner, her head bobbing and the wet sounds of her suckling reaching Casswell, he could just make out the moist contours of her sex between her thighs, still veiled by the sheer black gauze. Framed by the glowing orbs of her bottom it was temptation indeed. Glancing to his side he noted that Chang too was watching Sarah’s submission with interest.

  Casswell understood only too well that his servant’s inscrutable expression hid a multitude of dark and powerful desires. Chang, he knew from experience, was more interested in the tight puckered closure between Sarah’s buttocks than the gripping confines of her quim. It was tempting to invite Change to take advantage of Sarah’s humble compliance. Had they been alone he may well have engineered it, but he knew his guest would be mortally offended, horrified even, at the very notion of sharing a girl with a mere servant. And so, accomplished and perceptive host that he was, Casswell merely refilled his glass and indicated that Chang should leave them to their pleasures. It was, after all, almost time for supper to be served.

  As the door closed behind the servant, Casswell placed his empty sherry glass on the occasional table beside his armchair and dropped to his knees behind Sarah.

  He smiled narrowly. Above him, Oliver Turner, his ruddy face set with a look of hedonistic determination, was clearly relishing every caress from the girl’s tongue and lips. His hips lifted and ground furtively as he closed his eyes and pressed down on the back of her head.

  Raising the soft film of Sarah’s evening dress, Casswell ran a hand over those creamy white buttocks, their pallor emphasised by the crimson marks of the spanking severely administered by Turner. Sarah trembled and twitched under his caresses, but obediently did nothing to resist. He wondered if she guessed it was him kneeling behind her, though deep down he knew she did.

  She pressed back towards him, her thighs parting a little wider as he gently teased her. He smiled; the way she moved beneath his fingertips was no flirtation, but an instinctive response; a subconscious invitation to proceed.

  Without further ado he accepted that invitation. He undid his fly, lifted out his aching cock, and eased it deep inside her. When fully embedded he listened to her groaning around his host’s cock, and watched the expression of astonishment and ecstasy etched on the elderly gentleman’s face. He held her narrow waist with one hand, guiding her slowing back and forth on his sleekly coated erection, and sought her erect clitoris with the other.

  As he found the sensitive hood she shuddered. Turner snorted and Casswell pressed harder against the gently gyrating bottom of the sandwiched girl.

  Sarah Morgan really was everything Casswell could ever have hoped for – and more. Her body closed tightly around him like a hungry mouth.

  Hungry… and oh so desperate for satisfaction.

  Chapter 9

  Under the circumstances, dinner went remarkably well. Sarah recognised Oliver Turner as soon as her blindfold was removed, but the gentleman, now his desire and curiosity were sated, was charm itself. Helping himself to another sherry, he asked after her welfare and made small talk as if he was some kind of benign godfather, rather than the man who had procured her sexual services for Rigel Casswell.

  She wondered what he had seen in her; what dark ingredient in her character had given her away to him? But her sense of recognition was mingled with feelings of betrayal. Oliver Turner, if not exactly a family friend, had been a trusted acquaintance, and yet he had directed her knowingly towards this strange encounter with Rigel Casswell. It was odd; she tried to weigh up her feelings. She wasn’t sure whether she felt outraged that he had decided she would be perfect for Casswell’s tastes, or delighted that he had helped her find her true nature. The paradox was uncomfortable.

  Casswell poured Sarah a glass of wine and invited her to join him beside the fire. As their eyes and fingertips met he smiled. It appeared that the Doctor was genuinely pleased with her performance. Sarah took a deep breath, and as she accepted the glass she murmured her thanks. Her heart was still beating out a tattoo, and between her thighs she could feel the remnants of Casswell’s pleasure mingling with her own. It took her a little while to compose herself, but the two men seemed totally oblivious to any embarrassment or discomfort and began to talk as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She shivered as she realised that was exactly how they viewed the recent events.

  The atmosphere in the dining room was remarkably convivial. As they took their places at the table, it struck Sarah that they could all quite easily be in a private club or a restaurant. The dark wood panelling, the log fire crackling in the grate, and the orange light from the flames reflecting in the chandelier above all combined to evoke an older more decadent age.

  Sarah’s fingers tightened around her glass and she took a long sip of her drink. She must try and remember what Casswell had told her at the hotel, when he had toasted her as his Beatrice. Her role in his life was to be both as companion and slave.

  Sarah settled herself at the table next to Casswell, eyes demurely averted as Chang served their first course. Taking up his soup spoon, Oliver Turner rapidly turned his attention and the conversation to a trip he and a group of companions had recently taken to New York. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Sarah was naked under the sheer black gown; his thoughts had already moved on.

  At last, as the wine and good food began to take effect, Sarah felt herself starting to relax. On either side of her the two men talked about the real world out beyond the magical enchantment of Casswell Hall. Sarah realised that in a matter of a few days she had almost forgotten about her life outside the walls of Casswell’s fading mansion.

  As Chang refilled her glass she could hear Casswell’s words from earlier in the day echoing in her head: ‘It is essential that you are not just attractive and compliant, but also intelligent, articulate, and well presented. I travel a great deal with my work. My colleagues and I are part of an eclectic but influential circle. Of course I will ensure you have the appropriate clothes, jewellery…’ It seemed that tonight was part of her initiation into that charmed circle.

 
Sarah looked up into his eyes. To her delight he smiled at her and lifted his glass in salute, while across the table Oliver Turner began to wax lyrical about the acquisition of some important artefacts by a small gallery both men knew well. She felt the desire arcing between them; a spark of electricity, unseen by Turner. She shivered and looked way, afraid of the intensity of emotion that Rigel Casswell lit in her.

  The meal itself was delightful and the two men and their friends appeared to live a fascinating life. Sarah was happy to listen to their tales of expeditions and explorations, of finds and obscure facts. Finally, after coffee and liqueurs, Casswell suggested that Turner join him for cigars and brandy in the billiard room, and as the two men got to their feet, Sarah realised she was being dismissed for the evening. The abrupt end to their soiree took her by surprised, and she wondered, given the secrecy surrounding the translation of Beatrice’s dairy, whether there were things they wanted to discuss alone.

  Oliver Turner bade her goodnight by kissing her on the forehead, re-enforcing the impression that he was a benign old godfather. Casswell stood over her and lifted her fingers to his lips, then nodded towards Chang, who stood at her shoulder like a bodyguard.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, his eyes dark and unfathomable. Sarah wondered whether he was thanking her or his inscrutable housekeeper.

  When Doctor Casswell had left the dining room with his guest, Chang caught hold of her arm. ‘You did very well tonight,’ he purred. ‘He is proud of you.’

  Something about the little man’s tone made Sarah shiver.

  He continued, ‘But now they’ve done with you, left like a discarded toy, abandoned until they are ready to play again. I should warn you that the doctor and his friends are easily bored. But it is a shame to have to go back to your room alone. It isn’t late…’

  Sarah stared at him. It was the most he had said to her since she arrived at the hall. His tone was almost conciliatory. She wondered what he was suggesting and then gasped with shock as he caught hold of the chain on her collar and jerked it sharply so that their faces were no more than a fraction of an inch apart.